The Ginger Man - J. P. Donleavy [73]
"Don't take it like this."
"It's a mortal sin. And you made me, Mr. Dangerfield."
"You made yourself, Miss Frost"
"O God, I didn't It wasn't my fault I could never confess it Why did you?"
"Why did you? Takes two to congress."
"Please don't make it worse."
"I'm not making it worse, Miss Frost You're being very childish about this."
"I beg of you."
"You're saved if you say the act of contrition."
"I've got to tell it"
"God's in the room. Tell it."
"Don't say that—we could be struck dead."
"Relax, Miss Frost"
"I didn't want to do this. I know I didn't want to."
"Yes you did"
"I didn't, please ,1 didn't"
Miss Frost turned away on her side, her body choked and sobbing,
"Miss Frost, God is all merciful"
"But it's a mortal sin which I have to confess to the priest and it's adultery as well"
"Please now, Miss Frost Take hold of yourself. This won't do any good"
"It's adultery"
"One mortal sin is the same as another"
"I'm damned. It isn't"
"Do you want me to go ? "
"Don't leave me alone"
"Don't cry. God's not going to condemn you. You're a good person. God's only after people who are out and out bastards, habitual sinners. You must be sensible."
"I'll have to give your name."
"You what?"
"Your name. I'll have to tell it to the priest"
"What makes you think that? Nonsense."
"He'll ask me."
"Not at all."
"He will. And they'll send the priest to my mother."
"Ridiculous. The priest's only there to forgive your sins."
"No."
"Miss Frost, you've done this before."
"Yes."
"For Christ's sake. And they sent the priest to your mother?"
"Yes."
"And they asked the name of the man?"
"Yes."
"I can only say that it's just fantastic. And when did it happen?"
"When I was twenty"
"How?"
"A man who worked for us. They sent me to a convent in Dublin to do penance. The priest said he wouldn't give me absolution till I gave up his name. And you're a married man."
"You're afraid of the priest?"
"Yes."
"There's a special church on the quays where you can confess these things. I'll find out for you."
"God, don't I couldn't be seen there. It's not respectable."
"Sin, Miss Frost, is never respectable. Now just relax a little and everything's going to be all right"
"I don't know what to do."
"All priests' confessionals are not the same. Ask around for a sympathetic one."
"I know them and I couldn't ask anyone about such a thing. Word would get around."
"Go to sleep now, it'll be all right in the morning."
Sebastian put his hand out to her. Few friendly pats on the shoulder. She dried her tears and blew her nose. I took a sip of water and swallowed for the quench that was in it Miss Frost had closed her eyes. She would sleep. She had a nice little salary, nothing to worry about She may as well get as much as she can and confess it all at once. O Lord, for all thy faults I love thee still. And will he ask you, did you wiggle? Your nates. There must be a lot of steps to heaven. And Ireland is closest of all. But they're ruining Jesus with publicity.
18
At six a.m. on Monday morning, Sebastian climbed over the body of Miss Frost, and touched his way through the dark to the bathroom. Using Miss Frost's scented soap to wash the face and around the ears and the back of the neck. Then throw the icy water generously over the head for the stimulation. Good habit of a morning. And toothpaste, brush way back there round these molars.
Tiptoe back into the room and into Miss Frost's dresser. Pull the drawer out slowly. Miss Frost sleeping soundly. Take the drawer out into the hall and borrow one of these blouses. Whoops. Drawer out too far. Have lost touch with it in the dark. What calamitous clatter.
Miss Frost was awake with a dreadful fear in her voice.
"Who's that?"
"Me."
"O Jesus, Mary and Joseph. What happened?"
"Little accident."
"O."
I think this is the first early morning conversation I've ever had with Miss Frost.
Talking through the dark.
"I wonder, Miss Frost, could I ever trouble you to borrow one of your blouses?"
There was silence. Dangerfield standing, unclothed in the darkness. He waited. Her voice a little high, touch of uncertainty.